Seasons and Sense
by the tsunamisurfer
Summary: Summer passes, then Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer once again, all in the season of War.


**Seasons and Sense**

by sasha

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_It is summer, and the scent of smoke is on the wind.  _

Again the Order takes shape, ready to fight an invisible darkness.  Again, Remus plays his part in service to the greater good and Albus Dumbledore.  Nothing has begun yet as they partake in the quiet struggle, but he is prepared.  He has been doing it his whole life.  

Again Minerva's role is resigned to the shadowy places she navigates best.  And she is good at her work, because that is all she knows how to be.  It is only late at night, or in spare moments of unsettling ease, when she allows herself to contemplate the future, unsure of what may yet come.  

_It is autumn and war drums are sounding in the distance._

Remus is often alone at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, and they are almost able to pretend at moments that nothing has changed.  They curse Cornelius Fudge and his bungling Ministry.  They talk about Harry, and Hogwarts, of cabbages and kings, and nothing at all.  But they always remember, and that is when they can no longer pretend and the charade ends.  They are not the same.

Minerva starts the term with the blood already beginning to boil beneath her skin, but is she careful to keep herself in check.  She likes her job, and it is important that she keep it.  Her visits are infrequent and all too brief before they stop altogether, but it is all they have, for now.  Ministry regulations are Ministry regulations.  Remus says some rules were made to be broken and, conspiratorially, she agrees.  At Hogwarts she watches and she waits.  

_It is winter and flames begin to appear, licking around the edges.  _

The Order plays the waiting game now, and wins.  No one wants to think about how they came into the knowledge that saved Arthur's life, or what it might mean.  Remus watches Harry and wonders if there ever will be a time for this boy when something other the fate of the world will be forefront in his mind.   He drinks tea and consoles Molly Weasley on Christmas morning because he cannot embrace what is not there.

For her role in secreting Potter and the Weasley children to the safe, if not exactly welcoming, confines of Grimmauld Place, Minerva pays a price.   While the quandary is officially ruled as part of an investigation, the faculty forms an unspoken agreement that "inquisition" would be a more appropriate term.  Letters take the place of kisses and an owl brings her a neatly packaged gift instead of the man who penned her name so carefully in gold ink upon it.  The snow falls and winter settles, leaving her alone, much colder than she anticipated.

_It is spring and the heat of the battle feels close._

They are skittish through those next months, restless and troubled.  Sirius gets drunk the night Bellatrix Lestrange tastes fresh air, lamenting the irony of his existence to anyone who will listen.  Remus listens, though he has heard it all before in the way Sirius has slammed a door or broken a glass.  He is familiar. 

With Dumbledore gone Minerva finds herself met by a sensation she is not at all familiar with, panic, and this alone is enough to unnerve her.   Her patience grows as thin as her temper as Umbridge continues her reign of terror as the usurper of the Hogwarts throne.  The combination of such disparities, impatience and injustice, get the best of her in the end.

_It is summer, again, and the familiar, bitter taste of both triumph and loss is on their tongues._

Sirius is dead now.  Though Remus is not so self-destructive as to think he is alone, he privately mourns the severance of his penultimate tie to happier times.  And that is something he alone can feel.  He works hard, too hard, and thinks of Harry, exchanging letters and memories as often as he can spare, which is not at all what he wishes he could.  He digs in deep…digging his own grave, Minerva quietly thinks.

Minerva is stronger with each day; despising her own folly and when others ask how she feels.  She measures the days in ink and what little laughter remains at Grimmauld Place, knowing all too soon they will be replaced by blood and tears.  Knows they have already begun to be replaced.  Minerva can't tell Remus to stop any more than he can her, but she tells him to slow.  In reply Remus gives her a look that speaks of all the help he'll need this night infighting back the monsters he's spent so long learning to tame.  He confesses he's failed Gryffindor this night; he is afraid of letting the Order down, of failing, of losing what little left he has to part with.  

He is afraid that if he slows, everything will stop.  _Nothing makes sense anymore_, he says, _nothing but us_.

They hold each other because the night is long and life, ultimately, all too short.  

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Disclaimer: All characters mentioned herein are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Brothers.


End file.
